


The Face Behind the Mask

by GrumpyJenn



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alien Planet, Explicit Language, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-25 23:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/958923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpyJenn/pseuds/GrumpyJenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They don't often see the face behind Elizabeth's masks... not even John. But every so often she lets him see. And then he needs one of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Face Behind the Mask

**Author's Note:**

  * For [steadfast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/steadfast/gifts), [Amie33](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amie33/gifts), [Kehwie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kehwie/gifts).



They had kissed before, but that time it wasn’t really _them_. Not John and Elizabeth, but Thalan and Phoebus. John and Elizabeth had just been along for the ride.

But it had _felt_ like kissing Elizabeth.

And he wanted to do it again. Not that he deserved her, and even though she would never allow it, not while they worked together. And he _knew_ that. But he still wanted to; he admired her, even loved her, and the times she’d been in danger just _killed_ him.

He thought he’d never get the chance to even _try_ when the Replicators were in her head. They’d all thought he was nuts, rushing into the quarantine unit around her bed to help her to fight, she had to _fight_ , to win.

To come back to them.

Elizabeth was a fighter, so strong a woman that when the whale song had affected her and she’d collapsed, he had been shocked at how lightweight she was as he carried her to the infirmary. She had such _presence_ – leader of the expedition and all. And when she was _angry_ , Jesus, she was formidable – that her physical delicacy never really occurred to him until it slapped him in the face.

Like now.

It had started so simply, the planet was known to be safe, and so Elizabeth had come with him to negotiate a trade agreement with the locals. But they had forgotten that danger wasn’t always bad guys – Wraith or other baddies – out to get them. Sometimes it was just the luck of the draw, and they had drawn a crap hand. Because this time it was just an old pitfall, probably a forgotten hunting trap, and they had been taken by surprise, falling a good twenty feet.

John landed on his face, and Elizabeth lay in a crumpled heap within his field of vision against the wall of the pit, but he was having trouble focusing on her. At least he couldn’t taste blood this time, he thought somewhat fuzzily; he hadn’t knocked out any teeth.

“’Lishabeth?” Shit, his voice was slurred. Never a good sign. Working his jaw a few times, he figured out it wasn’t broken, and tried again. “Elizabeth? You okay?”

“Yes,” she said, struggling to turn over and sit up. “Oh! No,” It was a gasp of pain, and she fell back into the leaves at the bottom of the pit.

“What?” John asked as he levered himself up to hover over her. He dreaded the answer, but Elizabeth was clenching her teeth, and didn’t respond. “Elizabeth. _What_?”

“Ankle.” It was clearly difficult for her to get the word out, and John suspected that she was trying hard not to moan aloud. Or start screaming. She was usually poker-faced but the pain she was in was obviously testing her ability to keep up the façade. “I think,” she paused to take a shaky breath, “it’s broken.”

John swore, thinking fast as he ran his hands gently down her leg. She cried out once, then bit her lip.  “Okay, Elizabeth, it’s a nice clean break. Good thing plenty of splints fell down in here with us, huh?” _Distract her_ , he thought, _keep her focused on your words, not the pain_. “And look, I’ve got my first aid kit, some antiseptic and bandages and this nice little one-shot vial of morphine…”

“No!”

 _Why not?_ John wondered, and asked that very question. It wasn’t like Elizabeth, not at all, to refuse medical help. Not when she needed it. And she did, badly. “I promise, Elizabeth, I’m qualified for first aid. Now cut it out and let me help!”

“But…” Her voice was growing faint, her face getting paler by the second, and she gripped his hand urgently. “I can’t help get us out of this if I’m all hopped up on painkillers.”

“Liz, sweetheart,” he said without thinking about the nickname or the endearment, “You’re in no shape to help anyway; you may as well be comfortable.” He palmed the ampoule of morphine with one hand as he stroked her hair, the reddish-brown curls full of leaves and twigs, with the other. “Besides, what‘re you going to do that I can’t?” He showed her the morphine. “Please, Elizabeth? Let me help.”

“Could radio for help…” she murmured, and he knew she was going shocky, because Elizabeth never _ever_ forgot the weird little quirks of any civilizations they came across. And this one had prohibitions about “direct congress with the Builders of the Circle.”

They didn’t have their radios with them.

Elizabeth started to cry weakly, and the sight shocked John into action. “Come on,” he said, “I’ll give you this shot, and once it takes effect I’ll set your leg.” He helped her into a sitting position so that her injured leg was braced against the wall of the pit, and continued. “They’re expecting us; when we’re late they’ll come looking.” She nodded and barely winced when the needle pierced the skin of her thigh through a tear in the fabric covering her legs. “There,” John said as he pulled the needle out. Give it a few minutes to work, and then I’ll...” He trailed off, uneasy at the thought of hurting her deliberately, but she smiled at him.

“Thanks.” She took a deep breath, and although she was still paler than he’d like, she didn’t have that waxy white look that had scared him so much. He took both of her hands in his, and surreptitiously felt her pulse. It was slowing a bit as the morphine took effect, and he decided it was time. Looking around, he laid out a large leaf, then placed bandages and sticks on it, pulling it over to her prone form. “Scissors,” she said, and he nodded, pulling them out of the kit and cutting carefully through the fabric of her uniform trousers at the ankle.

“Ready?” he asked, willing his hands not to shake, and she grabbed at the nearest stick, putting it in her mouth and biting down hard. She nodded and he bent to the task. _Clean break,_ he thought again as he set the bone, and he tried not to listen to the single moan of pain she couldn’t help. She’d be embarrassed if he let her pain distract him. So he splinted the leg as fast as he could and mounded up some leaves and branches to elevate it, and then knelt closer to her head. “All done,” he said, pretending not to notice the tear tracks, and she smiled as she spat the stick out of her mouth. She grabbed the canteen from where it lay nearby and rinsed out her mouth.

“Thanks,” she said softly, and he shook his head. “I mean it, John. I saw your face, and you _really_ didn’t want to do that. You could’ve waited until we got rescued, had someone else… but you did it, even though it hurt you. Thanks.”

“No problem,” he replied, and tried to smile at her. It fell flat though; he could tell from her expression that she didn’t believe it was no problem for one second. So he did the only thing he could under the circumstances. He kissed her forehead.

Only to feel her yank him against her, and then she was kissing him senseless, moaning his name into his mouth. Her hands fisted the back of his shirt, her tongue stroked his, and she canted her hips upward and _shit_ , if she kept this up he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from... “ _Oh_!” It was a cry not of pleasure, but of pain, and he wrenched himself away from her.

Then he was babbling, apologies and explanations and oh _god_ , if he had hurt her… “Elizabeth, god, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve… are you okay? I didn’t, I shouldn’t—“

“You didn’t,” she said in a tense voice, even as her hands grasped his gently. “ _I_ did. I wanted to, and you were so… oh _god_!” The last was nearly a scream of pain, and she passed out as the rock – dislodged from the top of the pit by their rescuers – hit the broken bone in her leg.

 

\--/--

 

“I’m sorry, John.” She looked better. They’d washed her hair and had her leg in a proper cast and she was sitting up in bed with the foot elevated. But what could she be apologizing for?

“For what?” Now he could manage the grin, the one he knew was just this side of cocky. Now that she was safe.

“For…” She averted her eyes, and that was utterly unlike the forthright woman he knew. What the _hell_ could she have done to make her feel so...? “I… took advantage of the situation.” Her voice was quiet, ashamed, and the color was rising in her cheeks.

 _Right_ , he thought, _she doesn’t really want me, she…_ So he gave her an out. “Morphine,” he offered as an acceptable reason for her behavior. No matter how much it hurt. “And pain. I… you can use me for distraction from pain any time you want.”

She smiled at him in relief, and he grinned back, wondering if she could sense how fake it was.


End file.
